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Kaer Morhen wasn’t full, but it was more filled than it had been in years. Of course, Vesemir’s heart filled every time his boys came home, often rowdy and hungry, and stayed for the winter. Eskel, Lambert and Geralt, occasionally even Coen all filled the keep in their own ways, with training, stories of their lives throughout the world, and a reason for Vesemir to leave his lab every once in a while.
But when they started to expand their own families, quietly and cautiously as they did, Vesemir made sure to welcome them as well. It took years of coaxing to get Geralt to bring the bard, Jaskier, who had spent nearly 20 years talking about, and the year after Ciri joined them. Lambert had been making noises about bringing Aiden, the Cat, though had so far failed to come through on that. Vesemir wasn't worried- they had time.
Ciri was by far the most exciting addition to their winters, both her youth inspiring the men, and her hunger for training and knowledge immense. Even Yennefer of Vengerberg, who had joined them alongside Ciri, would indulge in the young girl's excitement about magic, teaching her what she knew.
The training had been going as well as could be expected. Ciri was young, and had been through many troubles which she came away with the need for perfection. Geralt did his best to calm Ciri, but it didn't always work- she did not take to being told no very well, especially when it came to training.
So the Wolves, bard and witch spent much of their time divided into training Ciri in different subjects, from combat, music, agility, and chaos magic. There was always something new to be done, Vesemir found. It made him very happy, though he would never admit it.
He had a reputation to upkeep, after all.
One bright winter afternoon, Vesemir left his lab. It was quiet in the keep, and generations of raising young boys had taught him to be suspicious of such quietness. He checked the great hall first- he had given Lambert and Geralt the chore of putting together a bench that had been broken earlier in the winter, but neither of them were there.
The kitchen perhaps? Eskel was on dinner duty for the night, and though it was early, perhaps they were getting a snack.
He poked his head in the kitchen, only seeing the witch. "Yennefer," he greeted. Yennefer looked up from the book she had been flipping through.
"Vesemir. Can I help you?"
"Don't suppose you could point me in the direction of the boys?" Yennefer crinkled her nose, the corners of her mouth kicking up.
"They are in the courtyard. I'll warn you, they certainly are not doing their chores." Yennefer closed her book and got up from the table to follow Vesemir.
When they reached the courtyard, Vesemir nearly halted in place. The snow had let up for the day, leaving Kaer Morhen coated in a thick white powder.
That apparently meant for the wolves, and Ciri, that it was time to do... Whatever it was they were doing.
Geralt was currently on an old wooden door, one that had been put aside for firewood, and was sliding down a small snow slope, balancing on the door. Once he reached the bottom of the slope, he hopped off, while Ciri and Jaskier clapped.
"Nine points," Jaskier called. Geralt scowled.
"Why nine?"
"Eh, your starting form could have used some work. There wasn't enough... Flair, should I say, for this run." Geralt growled and stomped through the snow to reach the bard.
"I'll show you flair," was all that he said before he tackled Jaskier into the snow. The bard had been saying "no, no, no, have a ten, no, Geralt, don't!" before being shoved into the snow, but his laughter could be heard even from Vesemir's distance.
"Stop mauling the judge with your lips," Eskel called, from the top of the slope. "I'm going next."
"But the door is down here-" Ciri started to call, but Eskel was already taking a running start, before jumping and landing on his knees. Instead of going straight through the snow like Vesemir had thought, he started to coast down the slope, rapidly gaining speed.
Ciri squeaked, and had to jump out of the way to avoid the collision. It took a moment, but Vesemir realized that Eskel was casting Quen on his legs, which kept him above the snow. It was actually quite smart, he mused to himself.
Jaskier's head finally popped up from the snow. He immediately caught sight of Vesemir, and his already pink cheeks flushed even more.
"Ah! Mister Vesemir!" Jaskier called, which alerted everyone else. Geralt sat up beside Jaskier, snow in his hair, while Eskel tumbled to the side to stop his sliding. "We were just... Ah... We were... Any help, anyone?"
"We were sledding!" Ciri chirped. Vesemir had to fight to keep a smile at bay.
"The benches are all fixed!" Lambert called. He was holding an old metal shield, though he attempted to hide it behind him when Vesemir looked at him.
"That doesn't explain why the child is not studying with the bard as was scheduled," Vesemir started.
"Eskel should get a nine for creativity," Yennefer interrupted beside him. "Geralt's was a seven, at best."
Geralt sputtered while Eskel punched a fist in the air.
That seemed to break everyone out of their shock, as Lambert launched himself down the slope, the shield under his ass, with a battle cry. Predictably, he nearly fell off of the shield, and ran directly into Eskel. The two almost immediately started to scuffle.
"Vesemir, come on, come sled with us!" Ciri called, as Geralt crawled past her to get in on the brawl between his brothers. Someone yelped something about snow being shoved down their britches, but Vesemir didn't care enough to figure out who it was.
Vesemir hesitated for a moment, before shaking his head. "This body is much older than yours, child." Ciri pouted, but scooped up Lambert's discarded shield and ran up the slope.
"She's just a child," Yennefer murmured next to Vesemir. He looked at her, surprised. "She tries to act as old as she can, but other times, she's just a child. A bit of fun is good for her."
"Chores are good for her," Vesemir retorted, but it came out half-heartedly. They watched Ciri sled down the hill, much more successfully than Lambert just had.
"Ten points for Princess Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon! What a remarkable run!" Jaskier shouted as Ciri stood up, brushing the snow off of her before bowing deeply.
Vesemir sighed, watching his wolves and their loved ones chatter, roughhouse, and laugh in the snow. Dinner wasn't for a while. It was alright if they did what they wanted for a few more hours.
"You need a cloak," Vesemir told Yennefer. She smiled, and her fur-lined cloak appeared over her shoulders. Vesemir gave her one last nod before turning back into the keep, and heading into the lab.
The next time Vesemir saw something similar happen was a few days later. Having learned his lesson, he had given Ciri and Lambert dinner duty, with the addition of cleaning up the kitchen. But when he walked past the kitchen on his way to the library, he was stopped by the sound of laughter, and the occasional sound of Ciri shrieking. It took no longer than a moment to discern that they weren't in any danger, but still, curiosity got the best of him.
He pushed the door to the kitchen open, preparing himself for a massive mess.
Instead, he was faced with Ciri and Lambert, who were both flushed in the face, and what looked like a jar of red sauce smashed open on the ground. Most notably, they both had wound up pieces of cloth in their hands.
"Lambert started it!" Ciri burst out. Lambert growled and snapped the towel back at Ciri, making her shriek and dance backwards.
Before Vesemir could gather a way to respond to this, Ciri snapped her towel back at Lambert, just barely missing his chest as he stepped to the side.
"Now you're asking for it!" Lambert called, beginning to chase her around the kitchen. Ciri was breathless with laughter as she ran, hopping over the table to avoid getting snapped.
"Don't hit anymore jars!" Ciri reminded, popping out of a squat to avoid being hit.
"That wasn't my fault! If you had just stayed put, I would have hit you instead!"
Vesemir was relatively safe from the action, as he stood in the doorway. While the two were most certainly making a mess of the kitchen, instead of cleaning it, Vesemir didn't feel the urge to stop them. What Yennefer said the other day had lingered in his head. Ciri was just a child, hardly a cub. She had been through so much, and if it did her well to make her laugh like that... Who was Vesemir to stop it? He wouldn't, not when it brought this much laughter and life to the cold, empty keep.
Vesemir watched as Ciri snapped Lambert across the face, almost expertly. Lambert stood there for a moment, stunned. Ciri tried to stop her laughter, covering her mouth, but she soon doubled over, her shoulders shaking.
"Excellent aim, child." Vesemir eventually said. "I expect that jar to be cleaned up by dinner."
"Okay!" Ciri replied. "Does this mean I win?"
Lambert still looked flabbergasted, so Vesemir nodded. "I believe so. Congratulations."
"Yes!" Ciri cheered, while Lambert groaned. "Come on, loser, you have to clean up the mess you made."
This time, as Vesemir turned and walked away, he didn't bother hiding his smile.
"Mister Vesemir, this may be the greatest battle that you will ever fight, to date." Jaskier said, his face completely serious. "I have full faith in you. Melitele may watch over you."
"Why are you rooting for him?" Lambert complained. He was standing right next to Vesemir, with Geralt on the other side. "Not even Geralt?" Jaskier shrugged.
"I have faith in Vesemir." When Lambert turned his shocked face to Geralt, the other wolf only shrugged.
"If I wasn't competing, I would bet on Vesemir too."
"Betrayal!" Lambert shouted.
"Alright, that's enough chatter." Eskel called from the other side of the field. They had spent the better half of a day clearing it from snow, all for a series of challenges that Ciri, Eskel, and Yennefer had put together. When questioned on why he wasn't participating, Eskel claimed he knew that he would win every challenge, so he ought to give the others a chance.
This one they had managed to rope Vesemir into- carrying an armload of firewood from one side of the field to the other. The loads were large enough that they were nearly spilling out of Vesemir's arms, and the challenge was being the first one crossing the finish line by Eskel.
"Are you ready?!" Ciri yelled, cupping her hands around her mouth. Jaskier balanced a few more twigs in Vesemir's arms. "Get set!" The three witchers all got into a running position. "Go!"
They took off. The field wasn't spectacularly large, but the remaining thin layer of snow and massive firewood bundles were already proving to cause issue. Lambert slipped almost immediately, narrowly avoiding slipping on his ass, but dropping a few sticks in the process.
Vesemir took care to make sure he was taking coordinated, balanced steps. Jaskier ran alongside them, shouting commentary: "There goes Lambert! Oh no, can he recover? He's leaning down to pick up the wood he dropped, and oh! He's dropping even more! Geralt is currently in the lead, but Vesemir is close on his tail, who's going to win-"
The finish line was fast approaching. Vesemir spared a glance to Geralt who was hardly in front of him.
"Come on Vesemir!" He heard Ciri call. Gritting his teeth, Vesemir put on another burst of speed. Right as he passed Geralt, Geralt made a strange noise. He didn't take the chance to see what was wrong, Vesemir kept charging for the end.
"-And here comes Lambert, throwing sticks at Geralt! Not a sportly choice, but not explicitly written out of the rules! There goes Geralt, dropping his sticks to chase Lambert! And is it? Is he going to? Yes! Ladies and gentlemen, Vesemir has crossed the finish line!"
Vesemir dropped the firewood as Ciri cheered, launching herself in for an embrace. As he held the girl, Vesemir panted, completely unable to stop the grin from spreading across the face.
"He did it!" Jaskier cheered, finally reaching them. "Vesemir is the winner!"
When Ciri dropped her arms from Vesemir's shoulders, landing back on the ground, her smile was bright.
Vesemir looked around. Geralt and Lambert had stopped throwing sticks at each other, and were heading towards the finish line, sticks abandoned. Even Yennefer was laughing, as Jaskier slung an arm around her.
Would the rooms of Kaer Morhen ever be filled, like they once were? No. But these people, this family, their heart, joy, and laughter was enough to fill the keep all the same.